Do not forever
With thy veiled lids seek for thy noble father in the dust
All lives
Must die
Thou turnst my eyes into my very soul
And there I see such black and grained spots as will not leave their tinct
O Hamlet, thou hast
Cleft my heart in twain
Mad as
The sea and wind when both contend
One woe
Doth tread upon another’s heel
Cast thy nighted colour off
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark